A Bad Case of the Bushy Eyebrows
by Leah Sora-Parker
Summary: Uh-oh, America's sick... with a bad case of the bushy eyebrows! How does he get rid of them? And more importantly, why does he have them? Read to find out! UKUS. Based off the story 'A Bad Case of Stripes' with a Hetalia twist! Part 1/3 Complete.


A certain man whose name starts with 'A' sat in his room, immaculately dressed in a suit and tie. His back showed proper posture and his face showed a calm and indifferent expression, complete with bushy eyebrows. Only the slightest hint of a frown could be seen. Pulling a china tea cup to his mouth, he gently sipped from it with proper etiquette, no slurping, with pinky out of course. He was the perfect English gentleman.

If you guessed Arthur Kirkland, or England as he was commonly known, congratulations.

You are wrong.

A door flew open and a rather flustered man in a business suit marched in. He took one look at the tea-sipping man and swore colorfully.

"America! What the hell happened to you?" the President of the United States asked in despair. The vice-president bustled in, forgotten in the wake of the president. Currently, he was observing the personification like one might expect a doctor might. Throughout this all, Alfred F. Jones, also better known as America, gave them a slight glare.

"I have no idea what you're-woah, dude, is that my voice?" a clipped British accent came out instead of his usual 'American' one, leaving the poor nation to just blink in shock. His hand flew up to his face and he opened and closed his mouth several times.

"It is worse than we feared," the vice-president suddenly announced. They both turned towards him.

"Is it really true doctor?" the president asked in a wavering voice. It all sounded a bit too much like a soap opera to America.

The 'doctor' nodded gravely. "Yes, it is just as I feared. He has a bad case of the..." He paused for suspense, making the other two lean in. "Bushy Eyebrows!"

* * *

Canada sighed.

It was a World Conference and even though he was hosting it, _not a single person had noticed him._ They were arguing, like they usually were, but the actual meeting had yet to start. The reason for this was simple: America. Of course.

It was unusual for the American to be this late but not unheard of. He would probably come bursting in and proclaim he was late with some excuse along the lines of "I'M THE HERO!" And then would come the laugh, that obnoxious laugh of his, and England would jump on his case, and the yelling would start, fists would fly, and France would-

Canada sighed again.

Sometimes, it felt good to be invisible.

A loud crash went up outside the door as they were thrown open and a figure bustled inside.

_Ah, speak of the American and he shall..._

The figure was wrapped in a thick blanket, and you could only see his eyes and the ever rebellious Nantucket waving through the air. A sign was held in his grasp that read:

**The HERO is here!**

_...appear?_

England, after he got over his shock, jumped down the American's throat. "And where the bloody hell have you been! We've been sitting here for hours and YOU'VE JUST DECIDED TO SHOW UP?! YOU WANKER!"

America flipped his sign over.

**Was sick. Boss held me up.**

England was a bit taken aback by this and muttered a soft, "Then just say so you git," before sitting back down, a light dusting of pink on his cheeks.

* * *

Canada, as invisible as always, glanced at his brother curiously throughout the whole meeting. Not once had he said a single word, which had _never _happened before, never. America had always gotten a word in, either by yelling it, actually waiting his turn for once, or by telephone, like the one time he was sick. But so far, America had not said a single word and refused to come out of his nest of blankets. Canada stared at him.

All the other countries had noticed it too, and decided it was much more interesting than China's new idea ("Fine, don't come crying to me when the robots invade-aru!"). The American twitched and you could just tell he was lifting his head by the movement of the covers. In all honesty, Canada thought the amount of covering was a bit ridiculous. You couldn't even see his eyes! (Though, his cowlick was ever present.) What was the point?

**W-What?**

...And how the hell do you stutter on a _sign?!_

Before any of Canada's internal questions could be answered, there was a loud crash and banging on the door (_Oh, dear Maple._). Everyone was surprised when it burst open to reveal the President and Vice-President of the United States. America jerked violently.

"There he is!" bellowed the president and immediately they both dog-piled America. Unfortunately, America could do nothing as he was tangled in the covers.

"A-Ano," Japan started, trying desperately to piece the situation back together as everyone else stared slack-jawed at the ongoing tussle. "I-Is there something w-wrong Mr. President-san?"

"You!" the vice-president screeched, pointing an accusatory finger at Japan, causing him to flinch. "Have you touched this guy?" He pointed to America. Japan vehemently shook his head, as did the other countries. Suddenly, a loud cry rang through the air as America was finally wrestled out of the comforters and deposited on the floor.

If the countries weren't shocked before, they were now.

America immediately blushed and covered his face, peeking his eyes out by the spaces between his hands. He stuttered in embarrassment, "D-don't stare at m-me, you gits!" Unfortunately, that just caused him to blush harder and cover his face entirely. Everyone just stared.

The silence was broken by a certain laughing gentleman. "Oh-hahahaha! T-This is just too much!"

"S-shut up, you bloody wanker!"

"D-Don't sp-sp-speak, I-I-I c-can't-hahahahaha!"

Canada, after getting over his shock, gave another sigh. This was going to be a long meeting.

* * *

America grumbled on his couch, eyebrows still, as he liked to call it, England-fied. It had been a day since the World Conference had adjourned and he could still hear England's jests and taunts ringing in his ears. After all, sure it was funny at first, but it wasn't like it was _that_ funny. He did used to have one as a kid...*

_Ding-Dong!_

Grunting, America pulled himself up and walked towards the door. Pulling the door open, he scowled at the visitor. The man was wearing a black version of Japan's suit, and hand a hat pulled down low, obscuring his face from view. America couldn't see the smirk on the man's face grow.

"What do you want? If it's a subscription, I already have one," America snapped, mentally facepalming himself over how England-ish he sounded. The man's face was almost split in half by his grin, but America didn't know that.

"I have come with a delivery," he replied coolly, his tone suggesting that it was best to just take the package and run. America, of course, did not sense this.

"From who?"

"Japan."

"But he didn't-"

"Do you want it or not?" the man snarled, lifting his hat fleeting to show his red glare to America. America, in turn, gulped and nodded. With a now seeable sneer, he handed America the package and walked away.

America shut to door with a slam.

_This should be fun,_ was the only thought **Japan** had.

* * *

Inside the house, America had opened the box to something white, round, and soft.

"A mochi?" he asked himself. Then he shrugged, this wasn't the weirdest gift he ever gotten. Ask France.

Picking the mochi up, he squeezed it, marveling at the softness of the jelly-filled desert.

_So soft, I wonder if England feels like this... Maybe his cheeks do-Wait, what am thinking?! No, no, no, bad America!_

"I-It's not like I'm thinking that because of England," he muttered, then stopped when he realized again how England he sounded. Though, even if he was his regular self, he still wouldn't admit it. He was a hero after all, and heroes don't say (or think apparently) stuff like that!

"Agh! Just forget it already!" he scolded himself, taking a bite of the desert. It was gone in a couple of seconds. Man, were those things sweet!

Yawning as he settled back down on the couch, America reminded himself to thank Japan for the treat tomorrow.

* * *

Somewhere in Japan, Japan (the personification) sneezed. Perhaps someone was talking about him?

* * *

**I originally planned for this to be just a one-shot but then split it up into three parts! It's based off the story 'A Bad Case of Stripes' because I couldn't get the idea of America with England's eyebrows out of my head for some reason! XD I'm so random!**

**And 2!P Japan makes an appearance because I want him to! (Actually, I just thought it be funny if it was 2!P Japan that gave him the mochi instead of regular Japan. I have no idea how he got there though, maybe he used some Japanese tech from the 2!P world. :P)**

**Finally, on the *, I think that America would have had a British accent when he was little since England did take care of him and teach him English, but he grew out of it when he got older.**

**Can you guess what happens next? (Hint, hint, it's something blob-y!) You get a virtual eyebrows if you do! b(=3=)b**


End file.
